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Artists Eye
If you could see
What I'm seeing now
Would you feel as I feel
Or think of me as I'm thinking of you
Here
But not with me
Gone;
Blown away like scraps of paper in the wind
Or the last crumb of a pie being carried off by ants away from an abandoned picnic area and to their elaborately structured hole in the ground
No
I'm not sad that you're gone
I'm sad that you didn't live
With an artists mind;
But not forgotten
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I hope one day that you can see
The world like me